Angel Wings
by OfficiallyChristopher
Summary: What do you do when you lose the one you love? Pray to that God that you don't believe in because there's no one else to hear you.
1. Chapter 1

White hot pain tore through his body. This was the end, Castiel knew it. His every nerve was burning, causing his vision to go black at the edges. Unconsciousness clawed at him, calling him to it's embrace with it's sweet, tempting song. He wanted to sleep, to make this pain go, but he couldn't. No, were he to sleep now, he would never wake up. He had to hold on, to say goodbye.

"Dean!", Castiel screamed, his throat searing. He needed Dean here. He wouldn't die without him.

"Cas?!", Castiel's dearest friend, Dean Winchester, called in reply,"Cas, where are you?!"

Quick footsteps echoed off the walls. Castiel saw the silhouette of a man, Dean. He knew there was no one else it could be.

"I'm here, Dean.", Castiel said, reaching for Dean. Taking Castiel's blood-stained hand, Dean knelt beside his pained, dying angel.

"It's alright, Cas, I'm right here.", Dean cooed, caressing Castiel's face with his free hand,"Cas, you're burning up."

"I'm sorry, Dean.", Castiel whispered apologetically.

"Don't worry, buddy, everything's gonna be fine. We're gonna patch you up good, and then you'll get better.", Dean said, trying to comfort Castiel.

"I'm going to die, Dean, it's too late to save me.", Castiel's voice was riddled with pain and pity.

Dean's firm hands slipped under Castiel's knees and behind his back. Castiel felt himself be lifted off the ground by Dean's strong arms. He moaned from the pain of having his body shifted so much, but he couldn't help but curl up closer to Dean, breathing in nothing but his scent of cinnamon and leather. If he was going to die, he was glad it would be in Dean's arms.

"You're not going to die, Cas, I won't let you. We'll get you some help and you'll be fine.", Dean assured Castiel, though honestly, he was afraid that Castiel telling the truth, that there was no help for him.

"Dean,", Castiel explained,"the grace I stole has burned out."

Dean's greatest fear was confirmed by that one sentence. Castiel was going to die, and there was no way of saving him. It was too late.

"Cas...", Dean started with no words to complete his sentence. There was no way to say how he felt. Just a name, he hoped, could say it all.

"I'm sorry, Dean.", Castiel repeated. It was getting harder to speak, to keep his eyes open. It was getting harder to stay alive. He was getting closer to going home every second.

"What can I do, Cas? Please. Tell me there's something. Anything. I'd do anything for you, Cas.", Dean begged.

"There's nothing."

Tears flooded Dean's eyes, streaming over his long eyelashes, and making his cheeks damp.

"Don't cry, Dean. Be strong, for me.", Castiel choked out on the words. He coughed, sputtering blood on both him and Dean.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you, Castiel.", Dean's words were soft, broken, and pained out of heartbreak.

" Hold me close.", Castiel's voice slurred like he'd had to much alcohol.

"I will never let you go.", Dean promised. His grip on Castiel was tighter, soaking the angel in his warm embrace.

"Dean?", Castiel murmured. There was hardly any time left for him. No matter how much Dean moved his body, nothing hurt. His eyelids sagged and his tongue felt like lead. The crisp taste of iron filled his mouth. The taste of his blood.

"Yes Cas?", Dean said leaning to hear him.

Castiel knew these would be his last words. He could not waste them.

"I love you."

Dean's body racked with sobs. He always had wanted Castiel to tell him this, he wanted to live happily ever after with him, even though he knew it was impossible. He wanted time as lovers, but, as always, the world spun too fast, and time was against him.

"I love you too, Castiel.", Dean cried. That was all he could say in the time he had. And he had such little time.

The last thing Castiel saw were Dean's vibrant green eyes, showing clearly his struggle to be strong. The last thing he felt was Dean's sweet, gentle, heartbroken kiss. His lips, letting him go, yet begging him to stay. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Cas?", Dean pulled away from his friend. His friend, who now lay dead in his arms. Castiel's chest was unmoving under his blood-stained button-down. His beautiful, diamond blue eyes stared up at Dean, not seeing him. They would never see him or anything again. His eyes had lost the light they had had in life. As if that light had escaped from the blue orbs and left behind an empty shell.

"Cas?",Dean repeated,"Cas, please wake up. I love you, Cas. Please, come back to me."

The only thing that Dean wanted was Castiel. All he wanted was for his angel to perform one more miracle for him, to wake up and tell him everything's alright. To kiss and kiss him over and over again until the light of day flooded the room. But there was no miracle, no revival. This was the last time.

This is the part of a movie where an orchestra would play a sad, slow melody. Castiel would stand up and wipe faux blood off on his trench coat and smile at Dean. And everything would have been okay. But this wasn't a movie. Dean and Castiel weren't actors. And the only sounds were Dean's empty pleas and ragged sobs.

"I'm sorry, Cas, I'm so sorry. It's my fault. It's all my fault and I'm sorry. Please, just wake up, Cas. I need you, please. I love you, Castiel."

Dean looked past Castiel's limp body.

"No.", he whispered

Dean knew this death was real and irreversible. As real as the burnt angel wings spread out across his body. A scar to always remind him of what he couldn't do, who he couldn't save. the friend that died in his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

Six months later, two brothers drive too fast down a barren highway. The rising sun illuminates the black impala with soft light. Classic rock cassettes litter the back seat, alongside fast food burger wrappers and beer bottles. Led Zeppelin plays just loud enough to hear, while the younger brother sleeps, his head rested against the window. The older one just drives, his focus remaining on the road and the beer in his hand. Towns fly by, forgotten through the sidewalks and picket fences.

No one pays any mind to the muscle car passing by. Not a soul knows that the men inside have been to hell and back in the most literal sense. No one here knows that just miles away, an angel lost his wings. Nobody saw while a grown man wiped away tears as he buried his best friend in the dead of the night. No one has seen the prominent burn mark on the older one's chest, a mark which has refused to fade over the years, even after the men bearing it had died three times. No. How could they know? To them, the Impala was just a car, and the abandoned warehouse outside of town was just someplace teenagers went to scare each other. There was nothing special about today, or that place, or that car.

But Dean knew all about it. There was no way he could forget. The night the sun rose as the stars fell from heaven.

A disheveled angel that took his last breath under a goddamn tin roof. Castiel should have had the honor to go out shooting. He was supposed to have died a hero's death. He was a soldier of God, that must have meant something. Instead he died quietly, in an old warehouse, buried in an unmarked grave by the highway, forgotten by all but two brother's. That was not a hero's death. It was a death for a coward.

The black car pulls into the familiar gravel driveway, pebbles crunching under the tires. Sam wakes up with a start and looks around, trying to figure out where he was. He looks at his brother's sullen face, staring at the unimpressive metal building.

"Dean, where the hell are we?" He asked, slightly concerned by the look on Dean's face.

"Morning Sammy." The words sounded chipper, but the voice behind them was dull and emotionless.

"What's this place?" Sam reiterated, more forcefully.

"Stay here, I have to do something." Dean commanded, opening the car door.

"I'm not staying in the car, Dean." Sam said, getting out of the car himself.

"Stay in the car!" Dean shouted, pulling his brother back in. He got out and slammed the door, leaving Sam behind him.

The small building rattled slightly in the wind as Dean walked to the wooden cross sticking out of the ground. Birds chirped above him and the trees rustled, like everything was normal. Wild flowers and weeds grew on and around the lump of ground in front of Dean. Everything around him was happy and beautiful and he hated it all. How dare anything be happy here? How dare life go on, as it always does? It just wasn't right that while he cried and begged and prayed to a merciless god for months, years, on end, it wasn't fair that life go on, happily and beautiful.

In the rising sun, the area looked like a painting. It was fitting, because none of it felt real to Dean. Even after six months, he still didn't expect to see the very grave he dug. He didn't want to. He wished he was in a painting. At least then someone would find beauty in all this.

He knelt beside the raised earth, clutching a trench coat tightly in his arms. Tears ran down his cheeks, not a sound to be heard. He sat there for what felt like hours, holding on to the last piece of Castiel he had. The sun rose behind him, shining down on a lonely man and a grave.

"Why?" He whispered into the cloth. His hands gripped tighter to the fabric, trying to hold himself together.

"This is bullshit, Cas. Fucking bullshit." He muttered, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

"It should be me in the ground, not you." Dean choked back his sobs as the wind blew the smells of spring around him.

"It's not right. You should still be here. You don't deserve this, Cas. You're supposed to be here. Goddammit, why the fuck aren't you here?!" Dean allowed himself to snap, openly crying into the coat.

"Why did you have to die? I needed you. I still need you! I need you, alright?" He shouted, trying to make sense of it all.

"I prayed for you! I begged for you! I have tried everything to get you to come back! You've always come back! So, what the fuck are you waiting for?!" The birds stopped chirping and the deer in a nearby field ran away.

"I told you I'd never let go! I didn't let go! I promised you I wouldn't, and I didn't! I can't fucking let you go, Castiel! Do you hear me?" The man screamed to a lonely grave.

"It's not fair! You didn't have to go! Why did you leave? Why did you die? I knowing your listening! Answer me! Why aren't you here? Why did it have to be you? It could've been any angel, why mine?" Everything was calm now, like the earth was standing still as Dean cursed fate for taking everything he had from him without remorse. He stood, shouting to the heavens, begging for answers.

"You finally did it, Cas. You broke your righteous man. Is this what you wanted? Did you want to make me cry?" Dean shook his head, the anger subsiding, being replaced by crushing, overwhelming loneliness.

"I loved you." He whispered, falling to his knees once again, finally letting himself say those words, after six months of praying and begging. He finally said what he'd felt the whole time. "I still love you, Cas. I love you so fucking much. Please, just one more miracle. Please come back."

Dean's voice cracked and tears fell from his eyes as the world resumed it's happy song to accompany his sobs. He buried his face in the sun faded cloth, which had long since lost the smell of spiced honey and downy feathers. It no longer smelled like Castiel had.

Dean had lost him, every trace of the angel was gone and only the memories remained. The memories kept Dean going, hoping that maybe someday he'd return. But it had been to long, and Cas was too far gone to return to him. And, try as he might, Dean couldn't stop those treasured memories from fading.

The wind picked up, blowing pollen through the warm air. The birds resumed their chirping as they went about their lives. Dean payed no mind to the beauty of the world around him. It meant nothing to him. Without Castiel, everything was pointless. Hunting was just killing time, sex was an empty attempt to feel something, and alcohol was an even more empty attempt to feel nothing. And now that Dean had screamed out all he had to feel, there was just an empty pit in his chest where Castiel used to be.

Hours passed, alone by that grave, as the righteous man cried. He didn't pray or speak, just cried. Nothing was going to change, he knew that now.

At last, he decided it was best to move on. He got up and draped the trench coat over the wooden cross.

"I love you, Castiel." He whispered, before turning away.

"Hello Dean."

Author's Note: So it's been two year's since I completed Chapter 2, and I decided a story's no good unfinished so here's the last chapter. Be sure to favorite and review. Bye :)-Christopher


End file.
